With Klingon Blood and Vulcan Tears
by Flash Foreward
Summary: There are monsters under the bed and there are angels in the closet, and they're about to drag Jim Kirk and his best friend Leonard McCoy into another world and a war that will decide the fate of their own. Fantasy AU.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** With Klingon Blood and Vulcan Tears  
**Fandom:** Star Trek Reboot  
**Pairings:** Kirk/Spock, Sulu/Chekov, Chapel/Uhura  
**Main Characters** _(in order of appearance)_: Kirk, McCoy, Spock, Sulu, Uhura, Chapel, Koloth, Kahn, Chekov, Scotty, Kyle, Gaila  
**Genre:** AU, Fantasy, Adventure  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** War, Violence  
**Summary:** There are monsters under the bed and there are angels in the closet, and they're about to drag Jim Kirk and his best friend Leonard McCoy into another world and a war that will decide the fate of their own.  
**A/N:** I'm not really sure where this idea came from, but I like it.

**With Klingon Blood and Vulcan Tears**

"_Fairy tales do not tell children that dragons exist. Children already know that dragons exist. Fairy tales tell children that dragons can be killed."_  
–_G.K. Chesterton-_

**Chapter One**

**In Which James Tiberius Kirk Rediscovers the Monsters in the Darkness**

Jim knew he was being silly. He was twenty-five years old and he was checking under his bed for monsters, something he hadn't done in years. But he was pretty sure he'd heard something move and he _had_ to be sure. Now, staring at the bare floorboards and neatly stacked shoe boxes underneath his bed, he felt even sillier. With a sigh, he pushed himself up and climbed back into bed. He listened for another minute, but there was nothing there. He flicked off his light and closed his eyes, waiting either for sleep or another noise.

He was just drifting off when it came again, a heavy thud like boots on wood. He tensed, squeezing his eyes shut. He told himself over and over that there was nothing there, that it was just the house creaking; but he didn't believe it. Not for a second. For one thing, it wasn't a creaking sound. For another, he could hear heavy breathing coming from somewhere above him, like someone was standing over his bed. He squinted one eye open and found a tall someone in what looked like armor looming over him. He tilted his head, trying to see more, and found that the man – it looked like a man, anyway – had long hair and some weird ridges on his forehead. He said something in a strange, guttural language and Jim's blood went cold. He had no idea what the words meant, but he had a strong feeling it couldn't be good.

He considered screaming. He figured waking his roommate would drive the monster away, but it would also mean enduring Bones' questions and quite possibly a few recommendations that he check himself into a mental institution. No, screaming wasn't an option. He would have to handle this himself.

The man – monster? – shifted and his hand came towards Jim. Jim waited until the last moment, then rolled away. He tumbled over the other side of the bed and scrambled into a crouch, his hands up, ready to fight. The man tipped his head back and roared and Jim jumped. It was an animalistic sound, like a cornered lion or a wounded bear. Jim glanced over his shoulder, trying to judge the distance to the window, wondering if he could make it there. He was about to go for it and just run when the roaring stopped. He looked back and found the man was gone. He stayed in the crouch for another minute, just in case, then he climbed into bed, switched on his light, and curled up to once again try and sleep.

He figured he must have gotten at least another hour when he heard the thud again. He opened his eyes briefly and found that someone – probably Bones – had shut off his light and his room was lit only by the faint moonlight from the window. But that, he found, was enough. Standing only a few feet away from his bed was a group of men, including the one who had tried to kill him – he assumed that had been the intended effect, anyway. He slowed his breathing down, trying to sound like he was still asleep, but the men weren't paying any attention to him. They were speaking in that strange language of theirs, discussing something. Possibly Jim's life.

He closed his eyes and counted backward from ten, repeating 'It's only a dream' between each number. Because it had to be, there was no other explanation besides a sudden onset of insanity, and that wasn't an explanation he was about to accept. When he reached zero, he opened his eyes again. The men were still there, still talking. Either this was a very convincing dream or he was actually awake and therefore crazy.

He couldn't afford to be crazy, he had work in the morning.

Suddenly, the group turned to his bed. He stared at them, wondering if they could tell he was awake. One of them – the one he had seen before – strode forward, leading the others towards the bed. Jim expected another attack and he braced himself for another daring escape, but no attack came. Instead, the man crouched low and disappeared under Jim's bed, the others following closely until they were all gone. Jim stared at the empty space they had occupied only moments before and tried to think if his family had any predisposition for insanity. He knew his mother was sane, but he couldn't be sure about his father. George Kirk had been a soldier and had died in battle shortly after Jim's birth. Still, Jim figured someone would have mentioned if insanity ran in the Kirk bloodline.

He hoped.

With a sigh, he flicked his light on once more and climbed out of bed. He crouched down and looked under his bed and found, once again, that there was nothing there. He thought for a moment, then lay down on his stomach and reached a hand towards the dusty floorboards. Just when his palm should have smacked against the wood, it passed through as if the floor wasn't even there. With a panicked gasp, Jim withdrew his hand and scrambled up, backing quickly away from his bed.

He stared down at the floor, hating himself for coming to the conclusion that he was fully awake _before_ sticking his hand through the floor. If only he had let himself hold onto the illusion of the dream for a few extra minutes he might not be so scared. And maybe if he hadn't run through what little he knew of his family history he wouldn't be convinced that this was all _real_ instead of some sort of hallucination. Even being crazy was better than knowing (thinking?) that strange men lived under his bed.

What was next? Angels in his closet?

Jim shook his head and jumped back into bed, making sure his feet didn't get too close to the floor underneath. He turned off the light, though he would rather've left it on, and pulled his covers over his head, thankful that he no longer shared a room with anyone. He could just imagine how this scene would have played out if he were still at home with Sammy in the bed next to his. His brother would either have been more scared than he was or laughing his ass off at Jim's childlike reaction

Probably both.

Jim took a deep breath and let it out slowly. It was late, he was tired, his imagination and his dreams were intermingling and making him go a little stir crazy. He needed a vacation, that was all. He'd talk to Bones tomorrow about doing something over the weekend. For now, he needed sleep.

These last thoughts comforted him and he felt more like the tough guy he acted like out in the world. He was James Tiberius Kirk and he wasn't afraid of any monsters under his bed because there _weren't_ any monsters under his bed. He repeated this thought to himself over and over until he drifted off to sleep.

He heard no more thumps that night, but if he had stayed awake for just another minute he may have seen his closet door swing open for a second and then quickly shut again, but he was already dreaming, his childish fears forgotten.


	2. Chapter 2

**Title:** With Klingon Blood and Vulcan Tears  
**Fandom:** Star Trek Reboot  
**Pairings:** Kirk/Spock, Sulu/Chekov, Chapel/Uhura  
**Main Characters** _(in order of appearance)_: Kirk, McCoy, Spock, Sulu, Uhura, Chapel, Koloth, Kahn, Chekov, Scotty, Kyle, Gaila  
**Genre:** AU, Fantasy, Adventure  
**Rating:** PG-13  
**Warnings:** War, Violence  
**Summary:** There are monsters under the bed and there are angels in the closet, and they're about to drag Jim Kirk and his best friend Leonard McCoy into another world and a war that will decide the fate of their own.**  
**

**Chapter Two  
In Which Leonard McCoy learns that Sometimes things are more than they Seem **

Breakfast in the Kirk-McCoy apartment was usually an odd affair. Leonard (or "Bones" as Jim had affectionately dubbed him after finding out he wanted to be a surgeon), having gotten up at the butt crack of dawn, would already be finishing his cereal or oatmeal or equally bland (but healthy!) breakfast by the time Jim rushed out to the kitchen to grab an apple and a granola bar on his way out the door. The morning after Jim's strange encounter, however, found Jim already seated with some toast and an apple (both slathered in peanut butter) on a plate in front of him when Bones emerged from his room. He stopped in the doorway and stared at his friend for a moment, but he didn't bother to ask what Jim was doing up so early. If Jim wanted to, he'd say, if not, Bones just wanted his breakfast.

He managed to get his oatmeal made and was just sprinkling some brown sugar on it when Jim finally spoke.

"I had a weird dream last night," he said, and something in the way he said it told Bones he wasn't going to like this. He didn't say anything, though, just put away the brown sugar and took his seat, waiting for Jim to continue in his own time. Which he did. "There were men in my room and they were wearing armor – I think it was leather," he tilted his head to the side, as if he could see them standing just to Bones' left. "Anyway, they had long hair and funky foreheads."

"Funky foreheads?" Bones asked, looking up at Jim.

Jim shrugged. "It's too early for proper descriptions," he said. "Anyway, they were there and I think they wanted to kill me but they decided not to or something and then they crawled under my bed and disappeared."

"Jim," Bones said, his tone very serious. He set down his spoon and clasped his hands in front of him, looking Jim in the eye. "I think you need to lay off the whiskey before bed."

Jim glared at him. "I was sober last night, Bones," he snapped, then he quickly flicked his gaze down to his breakfast and started eating – examining each piece of toast before biting into it and chewing slowly.

"There's something you're not telling me," Bones said after a moment. Jim shook his head. Bones sighed. "What is it, Jim?"

"I don't think it was a dream."

Bones stared across the table until Jim looked up, then shook his head. "You sure you were sober last night?" he said with a low chuckle that died in his throat when he saw the look on Jim's face – he looked scared. Jim Kirk did not get scared. "Look, Jim, you're probably coming down with something," Bones said, reaching out and laying a hand on Jim's forehead. "Fever dreams aren't uncommon."

Jim stared him down. "Do I have a fever, Bones?" he asked.

Bones didn't answer.

Jim stood up quickly, grasping his plate in one hand as he walked stiffly to the kitchen and set it in the sink. "I figured you wouldn't believe me," he said. "But I just needed to tell you. Forget about it. I'm going to work."

Before Bones could think of anything to say, Jim was out the door. With a groan, Bones pressed his hands to his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to fight off the Jim-induced headache he could feel creeping up on him.

This was going to be a long day.

* * *

It was already dark when Bones got home and all he wanted to do was curl up on the couch with some crap television turned low and a beer, but he had a test to study for. He did settle down on the couch, but with his textbooks and notes spread out on the coffee table before him. He stared at his scrawling handwriting for a few moments, then shifted his gaze to the neat type of one of the textbooks, silently cursing his choice of profession like he did every once in awhile.

He knew it would all be worth it in the end, but right now he just felt like he had taken on too much.

He shook his head and rubbed at his eyes, trying to get himself to focus. He shifted his notebook around and reached into his bag for a highlighter, only to find that the one he had packed for the day – his last one – wasn't there. He grumbled a few choice curses under his breath and stood, crossing quickly to Jim's room. He knew the kid had to have a highlighter in there somewhere, left over from his own educational pursuits; he just had to find it.

He was digging around in Jim's desk, with only the dim lamp tucked on its corner to help him, when he heard it: a thump like boots on wood. He froze for a moment, then slowly turned to look over his shoulder. Standing directly behind him were three men dressed in strange armor, all of them had long hair and ridged foreheads.

"Okay," Bones muttered, "I must have fallen asleep studying." He stood up and turned around completely, considering pinching himself to see if he would wake up but too afraid he would find he was already awake to actually try it.

The man in the middle stepped forward and raised an arm. "_DaH Hegh qoH_," he said in a strange, guttural language, then he brought his arm down towards Bones' neck. Bones countered quickly with his own arm, gritting his teeth at the pain that shocked through it. He took a step back and found the desk behind him just as the man's other arm came up from below and his fist sank into Bones' belly. Bones doubled over, coughing and gasping as hot tears spilled from his eyes.

"Damn it, I'm a doctor, not a punching bag," he groaned, trying to turn away from the next blow. The man's fist collided with his temple and Bones realized that his opponent was wearing spiked gloves. Well, that was hardly fair.

Bones threw himself to the floor and crawled for the desk, surprised at how far away from it he had gotten in just a few moments. He was almost there when someone grabbed his legs and pulled him back, turning him over in the process. It was still the same man, the other two simply watched. Obviously they didn't think Bones was that much of a threat.

He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, preparing for the next blows, half of him hoping that he would wake up the other half now absolutely sure this _wasn't_ a dream at all.

The blows never came.

He squinted his eyes open and saw another group of men had come. They were tall and thin and their pale skin shone with a strange, greenish pallor in the dim light of the room, and their ears came to points. Somehow, while Bones wasn't looking, they had gotten the men in armor to back off and disappear.

One of the new men knelt beside Bones. He wore blue, Bones noticed, a strange contrast to the dark brown of his eyes. His dark hair was cut in a bowl cut and his bangs almost touched his eyebrows, which were severely angled downwards. He laid a hand on Bones' shoulder and that was the last Bones knew.

* * *

"Leave him, Spock," Sarek said. "The Klingons are gone, we have done our part. Come." Sarek turned and led Stonn through the door, trusting that Spock would follow them. And he would, shortly, but he saw no logic in leaving the human to lie on the floor when there was a perfectly acceptable bed available – it would raise questions when the other human returned.

Spock carefully picked the man up and carried him to the bed, depositing him with as little jostling as possible – the neck pinch should keep him out for awhile, but Spock had never actually performed one on a human so he could not be sure.

After leaving the human on the bed, Spock turned out the light and slipped through the door, leaving everything as it should be.

**Translations:**

_DaH Hegh qoH_ - "Now the fool dies"


End file.
